Page 82 of A Gentleman's Wager
“Only a minor one.”
To look at him, one wouldn’t guess that he’d been up half the night rolling around on the drawing room floor, engaged in unspeakable acts. He was immaculately turned out, with not a trace of such debauchery evident on his face. Rather, he glowed thanks to the early morning light, which also streaked his blond hair with flecks of gold.
“How come you to be up at this hour?”
“I flattered myself you’d enjoy my company.”
That was a given, but not an honest answer. Bella pursed her lips and flicked a glance at him. He smiled back at her from the depths of his seductive blue eyes.
“All right, the truth is that the roof has blown off the barn by the west lodge, and I’m expected to go and look at it. I don’t know what I’m to do besides um and ah over it, knowing not the first thing about roofing. Gentleman’s prerogative. I could use your brother’s practical bent.”
“That barn’s always been rickety. It’s the wind on the hill. Joshua would tell you to consult Knaggs Medforth, up Langthwaite way. He and his sons will set it to rights.”
“Medforth, you say. I may well pay him a visit.”
“Do, but you should ask for Auld Knaggs, it’s what everyone calls him. Heavens,” Bella exclaimed, as Vaughan joined them at the table. “Everyone’s up with the larks. Good morning, my lord,” she said brightly, treating him to a smile.
“Vaughan,” Lucerne nodded.
The marquis blinked at the brightness of the room but didn’t respond to their greetings. Instead, he walked over to Lucerne and ran his quick fingers through the straw-gold strands of his hair. Lucerne squinted at him bemused, then puzzled when Vaughan’s grip tightened, forcing him to tilt his head backwards. “Still hungry, my lord? Tarts are for supper, not breakfast.”
Bella’s good mood collapsed into anger. She’d stupidly supposed that something special had occurred between them all yestereve, but here he was stripping her of that erroneous supposition, implying he and Lucerne had shared her merely as they might a whore, and Lucerne… Lucerne was gazing up at him as if she didn’t exist, waiting like a forlorn child for a speck of affection.
Vaughan released him. He settled into the space opposite Bella and poured a cup of tea. “Do pass the butter, Miss Rushdale, and save a little for yourself.”
She was sorely tempted to bounce the silver butter dish off his conceited head. If he intended to make this a battle, then she was prepared. “I shouldn’t make breakfast a habit, if I were you, daylight really shows up your defects.”
“On the contrary, it merely chases away fancy and self-deception.”
“If that were true, your own shadow would reach up and take you.”
“Miss Rushdale. My lord, can we not at least try to be at peace with one another this day?” Lucerne frowned when they both continued to glower at one another. Then sighed, poured the dregs of his tea into the potted plant, and left them to it.
They stared blackly at one another for a long hateful moment until Vaughan scraped his chair back, and took his tea to the library.
Bella dashed her knife and fork onto the plate. She knew last night had meant something. It had been intimate and special. Vaughan’s point scoring was likely just his attempt to reassert himself. That knowledge did little to take the sting out of his remarks or reassure her over what came next.
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Lucerne
Lucerne imagined the ride north to Langthwaite in search of Auld Knaggs would help clear his head of the nonsense he knew he’d left behind. He’d hoped that last night would put an end to the animosity between Vaughan and Bella. Instead, it seemed to have had the opposite effect. He tracked the elder Knaggs down to a farm on the southern side of Arkle, where he was mending a cottage roof.
“Aye,” he agreed when Lucerne told him what he needed. “The lads and I will be there tomorrow to see what’s what. It’ll likely take a day or two to fix, depending on what we can salvage.” Lucerne passed by the barn on the way home and was pleased to find his recently employed land steward had already seen to the securing of the grain and whatever else had been stored within.
He stumbled upon Louisa first on reaching home. She sat huddled before an overly fierce fire in the upper parlour, her embroidery upon her lap, and barely a stitch sewn since he’d seen it last. “Are you well?” he enquired. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, although that might be attributed to the blaze.
“Perfectly.”
Her overeager response prickled his intuition even before he noticed the red rims around her eyes. Clearly, she was caught amid some personal tragedy. He didn’t expect her to confide, but perhaps Bella might enlighten him. He located her in the bay window of the long gallery, looking out over the gardens. She seemed relieved to see him, leading him to conclude that she and Vaughan had continued to bicker in his absence.
“You were right about Knaggs, but tell me, what is the matter with Miss Stanley? It’s clear as day that she’s been weeping, and you said last night that she retired unwell.”
Bella made space for him on the window-seat. She took hold of his hand and squeezed his fingers. Then further prevaricated by chewing her lip. “It’s not that she’s ailing. I suppose it is my fault in a way. I suggested that we go into Richmond. You must realise that it was with one purpose only, and that wasn’t to visit the haberdashers. She desperately wanted to see Wakefield.”
“I rather miss him too,” Lucerne threw in.
“Aye, well, you might not have been so affected by what you discovered. She found him in the arms of Millicent Hayes. I think it has broken her heart.”
